Missing Mom
by Fenrir's Daughter
Summary: Vert stopped visiting his mother in the psych ward when he met Sage, afraid his time with a Battle Force 5 was just him inheriting her psychosis. But the guilt is catching up with him, and he really does miss her. Oneshot.


A/N: I've had this idea rattling around for a while, and I do plan to work it into my main BF5 AU eventually. She's not as crazy as everyone thinks she is, but she's still pretty crazy. Give it up for Vert's mommy, Janet Wheeler! And introducing a creepy location in the next county, heeeeeeeeeeere's Brush Hollow Psychiatric Hospital! I tried really hard to get this one just right, so let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: If I worked for the creative team behind Battle Force 5, Handler's Corners would be a VERY different place. With blackjack. And hookers! In fact, forget the BF5!

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><p>Vert mumbled blearily as he started to come around, unable to move his arms. His body felt heavy as he wrestled himself into consciousness, struggling to wake up. Mentally the panic rose, though he could not bring his limbs to thrash or his mouth to scream, and this only served to fuel his sense of dread. Had the Reds finally captured him? Where was his team? Was Earth compromised?<p>

He expected, when he finally managed to open his eyes, that he would be in a hellishly-red bunker on one of the Sentient planets, or at the very least in a cage in the green jungles of Vandal. But all around him, the color that greeted him was white; white rubber padding lined the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling. And now as he became more aware of his surroundings, he realized to his distress that he was not held in an energy field or by itchy ropes, but in a canvas straight jacket with leather straps.

"No!" he whispered, his breathing growing labored. "No, no, this isn't happening…" Where was Agura? Where were Tezz and AJ? Where were Zoom and Stanford and the Cortez brothers? The shock of the white padded cell, a classically _human_ construction, had finally jolted Vert completely awake. This had to be some kind of error, or a cruel joke of Spinner's gone too far. They had watched an old film from the nineties, _The Game_, starring Michael Douglas. Spinner had expressed great enthusiasm about one day pulling a mind-screw of a prank so over the top as the birthday party in that movie; perhaps he had finally managed such a thing with Vert?

Vert set his jaw, resolved. The reasoning did not matter. He had a mission and he could not accomplish it from here. He flexed his arms, twisting and struggling. He scraped his teeth against what fabric he could reach in hopes that he could rip open the straight jacket, but to no avail. And then he heard the footsteps…great, lumbering footsteps…

Stock still, he watched the view panel in the door slide open and then quickly closed. And then the door opened. Even in the flesh, in so human a form, even in a suit and tie, there was no mistaking the stone biker. He was larger than life with powerful shoulders and a scowl set into his sharply hewn features. Intelligent, acid green eyes looked out from beneath thick, black eyebrows, boring right into Vert's soul.

"Rawkus?" he gasped in shock.

The man with the grey hair and beard scowled impatiently. "It's Dr. Rockwell, Joseph; I really hate having to repeat myself every time we have a session. Please try to remember."

"Dr. Rockwell," he breathed, frowning, his own eyes wide with disbelief. "No. This is a mistake. I-I'm not supposed to be here. I have a mission. I have to get out of here! I have responsibilities!"

"There's no mistake, Joseph," Rawkus—Rockwell? No, Rawkus—rumbled. "As my patient, your only responsibility is to salvage your grip on reality. There are no aliens; there are no battle zones. These 'friends' you talk endlessly of are figments of your imagination."

"NO!"

"You are alone."

"You're lying! Shut up!"

"Stop fighting it, Joseph. You know I'm right."

The shadows were moving, circling Vert, moving ever closer to swallow him up, and Vert's ears rang with the noise of nails on a chalk board. Then suddenly, the scratching, screeching, _buzzing_ noise stopped; the door opened. In walked the man who liked to pick on Vert, the man who always bullied him and his friends. But the sheriff's usually gruff face held an expression of sorrow and concern. Regret, perhaps? Regret at what?

"What do you want, Sheriff Johnson?" he quietly growled, glaring at the man and struggling with the jacket again.

"You recognize me," he said softly, giving a weak smile. "That's good, Joseph. You just keep taking your medication and listen to the doctor and you'll get better. I know things haven't been easy for you, but I promise this'll all be over soon."

"What do you people want from me?" Vert snapped, backing further into the corner.

"Oh, Joseph," the sheriff said sadly. "What do I ever want? Please, just tell me where you hid the body."

"What body? There is no body! You're not making any sense!"

"We found your daddy's head, Joseph," he said, his voice grim. "Where did you leave the rest of him?"

"You can't keep denying it, Joseph," Rockwell—Rawkus? What the hell!—insisted. "You need to take responsibility for your actions. We all know how traumatizing it is, killing your own father in a rage. Of course that's why you made up this fantasy world of yours as a coping mechanism in order to deny your fault in his death. But you need to get your feet back on the ground. You need to find closure."

"Think of your poor mother, Joseph," Sheriff Johnson begged. "Does she really deserve this?"

Tears rolled unhindered down Vert's face, his sight blurring as he sobbed. "Mother…?"

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><p>Vert gasped as he sat bolt upright in his own bed, in his secret underground base, where all of his friends also lived. Their Blue Sentient mentor, the twenty-one-million year old but youthful Sage, also lived there at the hub. Frantically, he unwrapped himself from his tangled sheets; Vert must have been tossing and turning again. This nightmare, this terrible vision had replayed through his mind almost every night since…<p>

"Since we returned to the Clockwork Zone."

A week had passed since he had made the miraculous discovery: his father was alive. Jack Wheeler had been trapped in the battle zones for years, forced to work as a slave for the Red Sark design master, Tors-10. His tracking beacon was picked up by the Reds, making it too dangerous to bring him back to Earth. He was stuck out there, so far from home until the war was over. He was missing, but Vert had seen him alive. He was still out there; he had to be.

Vert showered, shaved and dressed. He skipped breakfast, only stopping by the kitchen table long enough to tell Agura she was in charge for the day. The blonde ignored Stanford's grousing at not being made temporary leader, as did everyone else, and soon he was out the door.

He rode across the salt flats in radio silence. The wind whipping across his hood, the little leaves and sticks were enough noise for him. Even in the bright sunshine, in his head he could hear Rawkus' voice echoing through a dark night; he saw a dank cell with a lone, fair-skinned occupant languishing in despair. Vert's foot pushed harder on the accelerator, careful not to actually break the speed limit lest the sheriff decided he would like to have a sleepover at the holding center and Vert was invited. He could not afford to be distracted right now, not when his task was so vitally important, something he had not done in far too long.

He was going to visit his mother.

Vert's thoughts drifted during the long drive, and he remembered the stories of his family as his parents had told him many times. How his grandparents had come to be there in Handler's Corners, how his parents had met as children and become friends; how when they started growing up, that friendship had turned into something more. But it all started with their families and how they had arrived in Nevada from New York and California.

Though Sgt. "Machine Gun" Kelly Martin had originally hailed from Brooklyn, New York, he found that after his return from the Korean War, he was unable to tolerate the hustle and bustle of big city life. He had heard one of his men speak of the quiet little desert town he called home with a great fondness, and so, he moved to tiny, out of the way Handler's Corners, Nevada. It seemed that the quaint hamlet was populated mostly by Irishmen, which suited him just fine, and he felt welcome. He married a local girl, Maureen Callahan, hung out at the pub with his Marine Corps buddies, and fathered two sons and a daughter. Sgt. Martin taught little Sean and Patrick all he knew about guns and fighting. Much to Maureen's chagrin, he treated his daughter Janet just the same as if she were one of the boys and taught her every combat maneuver he taught her brothers. He loved his baby girl very much, and he wanted her to be safe.

Because of this, Janet was an intimidating little girl. The other girls did not want to play with her because she was such a tough-as-nails tomboy and would often walk away from her; the boys did not want to play with her because she was a girl, and she would oftentimes be forced to beat them up. For the most part she was pretty much on her own. That is, until one day when she was five and the widowed mechanic Mike Wheeler finally remarried.

Mike's new wife, Carol, had been recently divorced and gained full custody of her son, Jack, before leaving California for good. She considered herself lucky to find a sweet, quiet fellow who treated her as well as Mike did, and she and young Jack were very happy to have a family again. Mike was even in the process of formally adopting Jack, whose name had already been legally changed from Titus to Wheeler. But being the new kid is not easy in a small town, and though he was glad to have his new father and see his mother so happy, five year old Jack was very lonely.

The boys shied away from him, sizing him up, wary of the stranger in their midst. But then the craziest thing happened. A little blonde girl about his age marched right up to him, welcoming him to town. Jack was unsure at first about having a girl for a friend—kids could be so weird at times, self-segregating their playgroups—but every time he commented on it, Janet just punched him in the arm until he shut up, so he went along with whatever she said.

During the next few years as each other's favorite playmates, little Jack and Janet were inseparable. When they got pushed around by other kids, they pushed back twice as hard. They learned about engines from Mike the mechanic; they hid in the shadows and listened while Sgt. Martin and his Marine pals talked about the war. Jack taught Janet everything he knew about locks and security systems. When Janet's parents were elsewhere, she taught Jack about guns and how to perform a silent kill. Unsurprisingly, both sets of parents thought the other child was a bad influence on their kid. Soon, they would get to the age when they started noticing the opposite sex…disaster was clearly on the horizon.

They attempted to separate them by sending Jack back to his birth-father in California, though the two were only friends at this point. They were still kids, really; not much older than fourteen. Jack had a crazy time with his white-trash half- and step-brothers, boosting cars and generally raising hell. They were not bad kids; they just pulled a lot of pranks that happened to be felonies. Janet hung out with some of the tougher guys, learning she could out-drink everyone but Frankie Castelucci and out-fight them all; after all, bad boys may not be any good, but good boys are just no fun. Over the summer, Janet and Jack all but forgot about each other. The problem arose when they met again on the first day of school.

When Janet looked up at the ceiling with that dreamy smile on her face, reminiscing about it like it was the day they were married, she spoke so fondly of her husband that Vert was mesmerized. Jack had a nice tan from all the time he spent at the beach, she had told him. He had gotten strong working part time in a garage, and had a smug twinkle in his eye from getting away with so many counts of grand theft auto and all the subsequent joy rides. Already handsome, he had gone through quite the transformation over their summer apart. But the split second he laid eyes on Janet, that conceited swagger died away and he stopped in his tracks with wide, staring eyes.

Vert remembered how she laughed when she recalled him the story, mocking his father's blushing and idiotic face as his jaw hit the floor. Janet, too, had changed that summer. Her manners were the same; she was still just as tough and mean and _definitely_ one of the boys. But her body was _all_ woman.

Some say that high school romance is bound to fade, that young love never lasts. But after a number of whacky misadventures, they were together forever and always. Until…until one day, Jack was gone.

Her husband's disappearance had destroyed Janet. At first she thought he could be brought back, but over the months she lost hope. She exhausted every avenue, eventually looking to the local witch Madame Wise Raven in a desperate attempt to magically find Jack. She frightened her son with how paranoid she became. She blamed the Sheriff's Department for doing a poor job. Steadily, she grew more and more distressed and angry. She thought she was being followed. Then one day…

Vert was in the parking lot now, the Saber's engine cycling down, but he stayed in his seat. It was a fight to even remove his hands for the steering wheel, but he knew he had a responsibility to go through with it.

No matter how scared he was.

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><p><em>Fifteen year old Vert Wheeler ran full-tilt for the town square, terrified by what he had heard. The guys had to be messing with him! There was no way—she would never! It was true that his mother was a bit…strained…as of late, but she would not resort to violence!<em>

_But the murmurs of the gathering crowd were enough to tell him she would._

_Vert stopped just behind the corner of a building, watching, paralyzed with fear._

"_I'm only gonna say this once, Janet," Sheriff Johnson sternly told her. "Let him go, now, and no one will get hurt."_

_The newly single mother rolled her eyes and snapped. "He's a killer and a pedophile!" She tightened her grip around Deputy Cash's throat, bringing the Marine-issue KA-BAR close enough to leave a small scratch. "Where's Jack? Don't think for a second I trust you! Goddammit, you pigs are all in this together, aren't you?"_

"_Janet," the sheriff said calmly. "Put the knife down and we can talk about this."_

"_He's after my son! That's why there's been no progress on Jack's case! Cash is the bastard who made him disappear!"_

_Sheriff Johnson cocked his service revolver, his hands steady as he took aim at her. The deputy nodded, but stopped when he saw Vert run forward, close to tears._

"_Mom, __**please!**__ Do what the sheriff says!" His voice was squeaky with anxiety and dread._

"_Dammit, Janet!" Sheriff Johnson yelled. "I don't wanna shoot you in front of your own son, but I will if I have to!"_

"_Mom, please, you're sick! You need help!"_

_Janet looked on her son's face in confusion, blinking in rapid succession. She searched his face for something, anything, but all she saw was pain and disappointment. Vert was scared of her; her own child was scared of her. She had become the monster she wanted to protect him from. Completely forlorn, she gave up and dropped her father's tactical knife. That was it. It was over._

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><p>He had yet to see any unnaturally tall, thin and faceless man in a black suit; nor had he seen any evidence that Deputy Cash was a pedophile. And of course, Vert's father still being alive exonerated the Sheriff and Deputy in Jack's disappearance. But the fact remained, and stabbed painfully at Vert's conscience, that she had been right about the portals to other worlds.<p>

She had spilled the entire story to Sheriff Johnson at her interrogation. She claimed she had been to another world and gained psychic power from some squid-headed demon and was trying to use them to solve Jack's disappearance. After two days in the holding center, Janet was found to have diminished responsibility of her actions and committed. Her son was sent to live with his father's half-brother for nearly a year until he could be emancipated.

Vert swallowed hard and carefully hopped out of the Saber, staring up at the foreboding structure that loomed over the landscape. The blonde had crossed the county line into Sagan, a slightly wealthier area with more state support. Blessed Angels of Mercy Hospital was in Sagan County, as was Sagan University. The Handler High Saints' biggest rivals, the Sagan Academy Rattlesnakes, were also based there. But by far, the most infamous locale of Sagan County was Brush Hollow Psychiatric Hospital. No one talked about Brush Hollow; the less said about what occurred in that awful place, the better.

The last time he had visited his mother was less than a week before he met Sage. The leader of the Battle Force 5 had been terrified that he was losing his sanity, a fear that had followed him since Janet's breakdown. And of course, if he let anything slip about the battle zone—if he gave in to the temptation to tell his mother she was right and he was sorry, they could just lock him up with her.

The nurse waved him in. The halls were alternately eerily quiet, echoing with mad laughter, or ringing with anguished screams. If Vert had not known the asylum was still in use he would have sworn it was haunted.

It had been quite a while since his last visit, but the route was burned into his memory. Soon, he was at the visiting area near the community room. Vert inquired about visitation and the orderly smiled, sauntering away. He had expected to be escorted to a private visiting area; his mother was considered dangerous. But within a few minutes, a thin and tired looking woman was lead into the room. Vert was shocked.

"Mom?" he gasped.

She smiled at him. "Joseph, honey," she said gently. "It's been so long I almost thought I'd dreamt you."

He moved closer to her, and when the orderly did not object, took her in his arms. "I'm sorry, Mom, I'm so sorry. I should have come around more often. I can't believe I just abandoned you like that."

"It's okay, it's okay. Don't feel bad," she murmured, patting him on the back. "I understand."

Vert lead her to a table near the window, casting the gossiping orderlies a look. "Last time they took us to a private room with guards."

"I've been cooperating with the doctors," she said with a proud smile. "Taking my medication and everything."

"Mom…"

Janet sank guiltily into her chair. "I…I'm sorry, Vert. That I wasn't around when you needed me. You must hate me now."

"Mom, I could never hate you."

"Well, that's nice to hear, but I could understand if you did." She sighed, resting her chin in one hand. "When I think of everything I lost, all I had to give up, and for what? For some awful thing I saw in the desert that was never there to begin with. Goddamn these voices in my head."

Vert winced. "How bad is it?"

"Some days are better than others. I'm trying really hard. I am! You stopped coming around and all I could do was go over that last day over and over again. With…with Deputy Cash. He was so nice to you, and I tried…tried to…"

"Mom," Vert said, wiping at a tear in his eye, "It's okay. It wasn't your fault."

"I want to get better, Vert. I really do. But sometimes…I wonder if I deserve to."

Vert took a good long look at his mother. She was so **docile** now, as if the free spirit she once possessed had curled into a ball and died. Sometime since his last visit a year and a half prior, she had lost the will to fight. The orderlies did not look the least bit concerned that she was mixing with the general population, when before the alarms would have been blaring as she knocked out a guard and tried to make a break for it.

Her long, golden hair was streaked here and there with white and held in a braid that went halfway down her back. She was thin from stress, and pale from being locked up so long. Her sky blue eyes had a haunted, faraway look to them, the dark circles beneath them just as pronounced as he remembered. He was relieved to see one thing that had changed since his last visit; there were no needle marks in the crooks of her elbows, nor bruises on her wrists. She had not been sedated or restrained recently, which was a good sign; she really was taking her medication.

Vert frowned. His mother had been right about the battle zones. Even if she had a few issues, she was still right about that. And if she was cooperating with the doctors, then there was hope that she would one day be released. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"I've got some friends staying with me," he told her. "Don't worry, I didn't put them up at the house. I had a few rooms built under Dad's garage."

Janet grinned. "Like that secret underground base you always talked about when you were playing soldier?"

Vert nervously chuckled. It was strange how his mother could always come up with exactly what he meant, even when he was trying to hide it and make excuses. "Yeah, I know. It's silly."

"No, honey, it's good that you've got people who care about you. It's no fun being alone."

He knew she was trying to comfort and reassure him, but Vert felt a terrible pang of guilt. "Mom, there's something you should know."

"You've met a girl?" she asked, perking up.

Vert blushed. "What? No! I mean, yes, but I'm not really sure—ugh. It's complicated."

Janet smiled. "Poor sweetie, don't be shy. What's her name? Is she pretty?"

"Yeah, she's great… She's so fun and—and I'm getting off topic! Right, moving on. Um."

"You can't hide it from me, son. I can tell my little boy's in love…"

"_Mooooooooooom,"_ Vert whined, embarrassed. "This is important."

A very serious expression came over Janet. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Don't freak out, Mom."

"But…?

He took a deep breath. "Dad's alive."

"_What?" _Janet Wheeler stood straight up out of her chair, but a stern glance from the orderlies made her sit down again. "What the hell did you just say?"

"Don't freak out!"

"I'm not! I'm…I just…" She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "Are you sure? Jack…"

"Mom—"

"Vert, are you _sure?"_ she repeated, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Yes, Mom. I'm sure. He's okay."

"Sweet baby Jesus on a muffin," she muttered, the beginnings of a hysterical laugh bubbling up in her throat. "My Jack, my sweet Jacky-pie, I thought the worst—Oh, I was so s-scared for him!" But just as suddenly as her moment of mirth began, it ended. "Oh. Oh no. You didn't bring him here, did you? He can't see me like this! I must look like a total mess!"

"No, Mom," he said. "It's going to be a little while before he can come home. I just thought you would want to know."

"Oh, honey," she sobbed, wrapping him up in a tight hug. "It's like Christmas! I never thought I'd even see you again, and now you're here and you say your father's back in the picture. Oh, Vert!"

"I love you, mom."

"I love you too, honey!"

Vert held her tight, afraid that she would disappear if he let go. "I missed you so much. I'm sorry I didn't come to see you."

"It's okay, honey, I forgive you."

Vert pulled away. "I-I want you to come home, Mom. I want us to be a family again."

"I'll do whatever it takes, Vert! I promise."

After a little more catching up, the orderlies announced that Janet had to be in group therapy in less than ten minutes and Vert had to leave. With a quick hug, they said their goodbyes. Vert watched his mother walk into a long white corridor, tears streaming down her face as she smiled and waved, and he thought she looked about five years younger than when she first walked in. Things were going to be okay.

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><p>AN: Reviews are appreciated! Thank you!


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